


breeder

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Ben Has Ladyparts, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, M/M, Pregnancy Kink, Sex Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-08-11 01:52:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7870966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben is captured and becomes Hux's personal plaything as well as an unwilling participant in the First Order's breeding program.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hux pauses in the doorway of the examination room. Ben Solo is there, restrained and stripped to his undergarments, head tilted back so he can sneer down his lofty nose at Phasma, who's beginning to remove the bandage wound tightly around his chest with meticulous rubber-gloved hands.

“As you suspected, General,” she says. “The primary sex characteristics are female.” She lays the crumpled bandage aside, and Hux gets an eyeful of Ben's tits; small, but unmistakable, sleek little teardrops of fat rounding away from his firm pectoral muscles.

“Interesting, Ben. Your old cow of a mother has delivered me a lovely heifer after all.” Hux steps closer, removing his gloves, and Ben watches him with undisguised loathing, his dark eyes fierce and wary behind the encroaching tangles of his too-long hair. Hux strokes that hair away from Ben's face with one bare hand, and Ben tries gamely but unsuccessfully to bite him, wrenching his neck and gnashing his teeth until Hux winds up and slaps him smartly across the face.

“There. That'll do, won't it? If you cooperate, you might find this procedure very pleasurable.”

“Procedure? That's what you call raping someone?” Ben's voice catches slightly, but his smile is cocky, insouciant, challenging; altogether too reminiscent of that almost deliberately unattractive father of his, who may very well have been a handsome man in his prime, but Hux's tastes have always run more towards lamb than mutton. Hux palpates Ben's exposed chest with both hands, palms his breasts, feels the wonderfully soft and silky skin start to warm against his, the nipples begin to point and swell.

“That's really very nice, Ben. Ah, my dear, if you think these poor little things are sensitive now...” Ben whimpers as Hux clutches him tighter, Phasma continuing her work as if none of this is out of the ordinary, pulling Ben's loose undershorts down and plunging two gloved fingers into his pussy. She probes gently at his insides for a while, then withdraws without ceremony, removes her gloves, starts readying a needle for the blood draw.

“No cysts or other abnormalities. From a cursory examination, I'd say this girl should have no trouble conceiving.”

“I'm not a girl.”

“No, not a girl,” Hux agrees. “Merely a female. A cunt and a womb attached to a life-support system. We'll soon determine whether you're ready to fulfill your purpose.”

“Are you going to torture me?” An odd question, Hux thinks; surely, from Ben's perspective, he's already being tortured. Hux is still playing with his tits, rubbing his thumbs over the hardened nipples as Ben's bound arms jerk and twitch with the instinctive urge to cover himself. Phasma alcohol-swabs a patch of skin on the inside of Ben's upper arm, draws blood from him with such brusque efficiency that Ben hardly notices it.

“This test will determine if you're currently fertile. Though I'm sure I'll enjoy fucking you whether or not you're ready to conceive.”

“Have you finished palpating her breasts?” Phasma, pretending to be bored by the proceedings; or actually bored, Hux finds it difficult to tell. She's packing away the blood samples to be analyzed by the medbay droids, placing the tiny vials in their plastic cases. She stands at the sink and washes her hands for what seems to Hux to be longer than necessary, her back resolutely turned on the general and his prisoner.

“Not quite, Captain. I think you ought to return to your duties, actually, this might take a few hours.”

“Are you sure you won't need my assistance?”

“Take those samples to the lab droids. I'd like the results as soon as possible. You're dismissed, Captain.” Phasma salutes and leaves Hux to his... well, interrogation sounds so dull, and Hux can already tell that Ben is going to be great fun.

“To answer your question, Ben: no, not in the traditional sense of the word. I don't see the need to cause you any unnecessary harm.”

“What exactly are you going to do?” Ben looks at Hux, meets his eyes levelly. He's trembling slightly, sways on his feet a little when Hux squeezes roughly at his perfectly palm-sized breasts, and Hux gets the feeling that Ben is astonished at his own bravery; facing down the First Order's infamous General Starkiller with all the equanimity he's capable of, and a bit of the swagger he's inherited from his loathsome father.

Hux doesn't answer the question for a while, continues to acquaint himself with the very agreeable softness of Ben's chest; he presses Ben's pretty little tits together, lowers his head to mouth and lick at the resulting crease, tastes the salt of Ben's sweat and the sourness of his fear. He lips delicately at Ben's nipples, sucks gently at each of them in turn.

“These are going to swell pretty spectacularly, you know. Twice or three times their size, they'll be so much heavier once they start to fill up with milk for your offspring. All the veins will pop out, the nipples will darken... you'll look so different, Ben. Won't recognize your own reflection, and you'll know it's because you're not Ben Solo anymore, you're just a broodmare slut carrying the children of the First Order. Your body won't belong to you. You'll be forced to remember me breeding you, my seed conquering you from the inside out.” Hux is hard in his uniform trousers, but he doesn't want to climb on Ben and start rutting him just yet. He has the boy at his mercy, can afford to be as thorough as he thinks is necessary.

“Bend over the table,” he commands Ben, and Ben of course just stands there, his dark eyes wide and hurt, his loose mouth hanging open. He's shaking his head slightly, as if it's just dawned on him that he will indeed be mounted and impregnated if Hux so desires, that nothing he can do now will make the slightest bit of difference.

“I'm not actually a cruel man, Ben. I don't like to see people suffer, if it can be avoided.” Hux takes Ben's chin in his hand and tilts his face up, forces Ben to look him in the eye. “However, pain can be a very efficient motivator.” Hux strikes out with a quick hand and slaps Ben's chest, leaving the angry red outline of his fingers imprinted on the delicate white skin of his tits. Fragile, blue-veined, lovely little things; Hux admires the way they bounce and jiggle as he slaps them again and again, and finally, once his entire chest is red and burning, Ben turns around and lowers himself over the examination table. He hisses with pain as his tender chest comes in contact with the hard surface, and Hux strokes his back, soothing him.

“I don't suppose you liked the way that felt, darling. Smart little thing, aren't you, learning to cooperate.”

“I hate you,” Ben grits out; his teeth are clenched, his voice is choked as if he's crying. “For doing this to me, and for what you've done to so many other innocent people--”

“Forget about that. This has nothing to do with anything so prosaic as some kind of war between light and darkness. This is about you attaining your proper place in the universe, which happens to be on the end of my dick.” Hux strokes Ben's offered rump as if he were some good-natured beast of burden, rubbing his palm over it, admiring the firmness of muscle under the sleek pale skin. “You know, with a few modifications, you'd make an excellent dairy milker. We could have you freshening every six months or so. Imagine what that kind of output would do to your body.”

“Shut up, will you? Just do what you're going to do.”

“Not so quickly. I intend to take my time with you.” Hux's fingers pry their way in between Ben's tightly clenched thighs, and he starts to fuck him like that, roughly from behind, first two fingers then three and Ben continues to sob chokingly as if he's trying not to make any noise at all.

“Captain Phasma was right. You do feel clean and healthy. Clear of any abnormalities.” Hux carefully lowers himself to his knees on the cold metallic floor, makes sure Ben can feel his breath against the backs of his quivering thighs. “How old are you now? Twenty-five or so? At peak fertility, I'd say. What a shame it would be to waste it.”

“Don't do this,” Ben mutters, as if he doesn't hold out any hope that Hux will listen to his pleading. “Please, anything else... I'll suck you off, or you can fuck my tits, just don't...”

“What, aren't you well accustomed to having your cunt fucked by now? I'm sure any number of men have been in here, but I'll be the first to impregnate you, won't I?”

“I don't...” Hux can hear Ben making a concerted effort to compose himself, to rally whatever strength he has left, to deny Hux the satisfaction of seeing him like this, limp and broken and bent over as he's impaled again and again on Hux's fingers. “I never--”

“You're not a virgin. That much is perfectly clear.” Hux spreads Ben open using his thumb and index finger as a speculum, provoking a sharp involuntary whine from him, which he answers with a brisk open-handed slap to the back of Ben's thigh. “Who's been fucking you, then? You're the whore of the Resistance, aren't you, spreading your legs for any man who'll look at you twice... that dashing pilot of yours, I ought to tell you how he finished up. We got what we wanted from him. Poor fellow, he would've done anything to save you. Seemed remarkably concerned for the virtue of his ladylove.”

“Stop.” Ben's voice is hoarse, hopeless, his begging a mere reflex at this point. Hux keeps fingering his sore cunt, feels it loosen around him as if Ben is preparing to take his cock, as if his body recognizes the necessity of this procedure. Ben is still weeping monotonously, and Hux slaps his ass a few more times just to make him cry out, feels Ben's pussy tighten around his fingers. Delicious spasms, he can just imagine that warm tunnel of flesh dragging on his cock, and now he does have to reach down and fumble himself out of his trousers. He presses his bared cock to Ben's thigh, feels him gasp and go still. Not crying now, just waiting, body tensed, holding his breath.

“No, not a virgin. But I prefer not to break ground myself, it's such delicate work.” Hux stands between Ben's splayed thighs, forcing his pussy open with one thumb hooked into the labia majora on either side, feeling him tremble and strain to close his legs. “So much more pleasant if the way's been prepared for me. So loose, so wet, so easy.” Hux slides himself into Ben slowly, incrementally. Slowly enough that he has to feel every molecule of the stiff dick filling him up, feel the unlubricated drag of it against the delicate skin of his vaginal canal. Tight, Hux thinks, a nice tight hole for him to fuck, and he's going to go as slowly as he possibly can, make sure when he spills his come that Ben is ready to receive him. Ben doesn't speak now, doesn't cry, is completely silent as Hux grasps and lifts his hips and starts to fuck him deeper and harder, picturing the forecast changes in this strong slim body, the belly swelling up, the tits spilling over with milk. A broodmare, First Order breeding stock, his own captive whore.

“You feel good, Ben. A nice warm fertile cunt. Keep stroking my cock, lovely, I'm going to come inside you. Seal it in with a plug, let you keep it until it takes.”

Ben whines, gasps, yowls like an animal as Hux slams into him harder and faster, fucking him mercilessly, and just as he's poised on the brink of his own orgasm he feels Ben's pussy clench and spasm around him; Ben's coming, completely untouched, coming just from the raw and ruthless feeling of Hux's cock ramming into him, forcing itself deeper with every thrust. Ben breathes raggedly, and Hux, suddenly inspired, circles gentle fingertips around his clit.

“I felt that, darling. Can you do it again for me?”

“Fuck you,” Ben grits out, apparently unaware of the irony in his choice of words. “You don't care. You're just trying to humiliate me. Fucking me as a punishment. You don't care if I get off.”

“But you did, didn't you? It feels good. You like being bred like an animal. Being shown your proper place.” Hux's fingers slide back and forth over the small stiff knot of Ben's clit, while he slips his other hand over Ben's warm side and down again to fondle his tits, strokes deftly at one erect nipple, pulls at it with thumb and forefinger as if Ben's already in milk, as if Hux is stripping it out of his udders.

“Don't say that.” Ben's rising to meet Hux's thrusts now, weakly but unmistakably; the boy hasn't been fed properly in days, probably hasn't been resting very well either. Hux looks forward to spoiling him, plying him with all the choicest food and drink an officer of the First Order has access to, putting him to bed between Hux's own sheets, on a soft mattress stuffed thick with real feathers. Ben will want for nothing, grow fat and soft and contented in his new life of ease and luxury.

“It's all right, Ben. Don't be ashamed. You can come.” As if he'd needed Hux to give him permission, Ben does come, more subtly this time, but Hux feels the familiar constriction around his cock and spills over his own edge, making a well-fucked sloppy mess of Ben's spread-open pussy. He withdraws slowly, admires the sight of Ben-- wrists and ankles clasped tight in their binders- sprawled panting and helpless over the examination table with Hux's fluid dripping from between his legs. He commits it to memory, this picture of perfect subjugation, anticipates stroking himself off later as he writes up the interrogation report.

“How do you feel now?” Ben doesn't answer, only groans lowly and tries without much success to stand; he's weak from hunger and pleasure, restrained in an awkward position, unable to raise himself to his feet. “Will you behave yourself if I remove your restraints, then? Can I trust you?” Another preverbal groan, some more ineffectual twitching. Pathetic. If this is what he's been reduced to after just one session, Hux is greatly looking forward to experimenting further.


	2. Chapter 2

Hux unclasps the binders from Ben's wrists and ankles and stands aside, observing him as he stretches out his arms and legs, turning onto his side and covering himself with his hands, trying to regain some measure of dignity. His shoulders lift and fall with quiet gasping sobs, and Hux waits silently for him to compose himself. He stands still, arms crossed, patient, knowing that Ben can feel his presence, will acknowledge him at some point. Hux is slightly hoping for more defiance, for Ben to swear at him and spit in his face, but all the fight seems to have gone right out of him and he remains limply draped more or less where Hux left him as the minutes crawl by.

“Pitiful creature, aren't you?” Hux taunts him. “Are you through, then? Not going to fight for your worthless life after all?”

“Leave me alone.”

“I'll have you returned to your cell, Ben. If you're certain that's what you want.” Hux strokes Ben's shoulder idly, and he cries out as if the light touch burns his flesh, as if the slightest brush of Hux's skin against his is agony. “However, I can't guarantee your safety there. It's a very low-clearance area, you may be interfered with.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I'm saying that a great many of my enlisted men have access to that particular cellblock, and they're unlikely to respect your privacy for very much longer. They're accustomed to making sport of prisoners. It's a bit of a tradition in most armed forces.”

“So I have a choice.” Ben coughs, clears his throat, rolls over to face Hux and raises his head wearily. “I can be raped by you, or I can be raped by dozens of Storm Troopers, probably at the same time.” Hux finds himself biting his lip like a schoolboy to tamp down the sudden surge of arousal that bolts through him at the thought of Ben being shared by a squadron of Storm Troopers, passed from one pair of rough hands to another, held down and fondled all over as he's fucked, forced to take cock after cock down his throat. He knows he could never allow such a thing, that Ben's breeding must be carefully managed, that nothing and no one will penetrate his cunt or even his mouth unless Hux explicitly allows it.

“Come with me.” Hux strokes Ben's hair, and Ben appears not to notice. “I won't touch you again tonight. You can clean yourself up, bathe in my private facilities. Partake all you want of the finest food and drink and sleep in a general's bed.”

“And will the general also be there?”

“Well, it is my bed.” Hux stands, straightens himself officiously. “Choose one or the other. Come with me now, or remain here and wait to be escorted back to your cell.”

Hux doesn't have long to wait this time. Ben stands and turns to face him, arms crossed protectively over his chest. His eyes are cast down, red-rimmed from crying, but the look on his face is one of stoic determination. He nods almost imperceptibly, looking down at his bare feet on the bare comfortless floor of the examination room. Hux reaches out to grasp Ben's shoulder, and it's against protocol to transport prisoners on the ship without first clapping them in binders but Hux doesn't want to ruin the illusion that Ben is following him of his own free will. They draw many curious glances on their way to Hux's quarters, and Hux wishes there were more reflective surfaces in these corridors so he could see how they look together: Hux tall-striding and proud in full uniform with Leia Organa's only son stumbling along behind him, naked and humiliated.

In his quarters, Hux undresses and directs Ben to the fresher, pretending disinterest, as if he no longer cares what happens to him now that he's fucked him once. Ben takes full advantage of the superior facilities, and it's at least an hour before Hux sees him again. By the time he reemerges the evening meal has been delivered; nothing out of the ordinary, but likely more elegant than what Ben's used to, and he eyes the spread with unmistakable interest.

“Come sit with me, Ben. You must be hungry.” Ben looks around as if unsure who Hux is talking to before taking the seat opposite him, his arms still decorously crossed on his chest. Hux pours two full glasses of wine and slides one towards Ben, who considers the offering suspiciously, head tilted to one side.

“You can put your arms down. I've already seen your tits.” Ben scowls, but unfolds his arms, reaches out cautiously to take hold of the wine glass. “They're somewhat disappointing, actually. Suppose I thought they'd be more like your mother's. Maybe I'll fuck her too before all this is over, she's too old to breed but I'm sure she'd be entertaining.”

“Shut up.” Ben's face is flushed livid with rage, his hands clenched in trembling fists in front of him on the table, his bared breasts heaving and Hux wants nothing more than to grab a double handful and rub himself off on Ben's chest but he did promise the boy a reprieve. Just for tonight, Hux won't touch him, will let Ben sleep peacefully beside him in the massive bed he usually doesn't have to share.

“Drink,” Hux says, mildly, pushing Ben's wine glass closer. “It'll help you sleep.” Ben resists, glowering, but hunger and thirst win out in the end and Hux sits back contentedly and watches him stuff himself, licking his fingers and spattering sauce on his chest and guzzling the dark Corellian wine straight from the bottle. Hux leaves him to it, repairs to the fresher to perform his nightly ablutions, and when he returns Ben is already asleep in his bed, sprawled out and snoring on top of the covers. Hux admires him for a while before turning down the lights and settling in beside him. He drapes an arm around Ben's shoulders, presses against his hip, not close enough to be lewd but he's anticipating waking up hard in the early hours of the morning, rutting against Ben's sturdily muscled side, climbing atop him and fucking and coming in him before he's quite awake.

Hux wakes, lightheaded and panicked, to a pair of strong hands clasped around his throat; and he does indeed have an erection, but his bedmate couldn't possibly be less interested in placating it. Ben is leaning over him, bearing down with all his weight on Hux's vulnerable throat, and Hux's immediate thought is that this is going to be how he dies, strangled by a symbolic conquest, the prisoner whom he probably ought to have securely strapped down before turning in for the night. His next thought is that Ben is too weak to keep this up, that while he has the advantage in terms of sheer physical size and muscularity he's still off-balance from the weeks he spent in the cells being deliberately deprived of sleep and food and everything else necessary for the maintenance of a human body. He's sick, exhausted, spurred on by adrenaline, and he's determined to make Hux suffer.

Hux claws at Ben with both hands, grasping his arms somewhat desperately, scrabbling for purchase and sinking his fingers into the bare skin until he feels it split and bleed against the blunt edges of his trimmed nails. He gathers his legs underneath him, strikes out and knees Ben in the stomach; Ben loses his hold, pitches over onto his side and Hux loses no time climbing on top of him, pinning him there with a knee on Ben's thigh and both hands tangled in his hair and pressing his face into the mattress. Ben shifts, parting his legs, and the point of Hux's knee finds his crotch, bears down until he cries out in pain.

“I see my work isn't quite finished.” Hux rubs his knee into Ben's cunt, takes hold of Ben's forearms and forces them behind his head. Ben's struggles are ineffectual now, and Hux lowers his head and bites at the heaving tits thrust so temptingly close to his face. He closes his teeth around a nipple and pulls until Ben cries out loudly in pain, then slaps him across the face. Once, decisively, bone-stingingly hard, and it's enough. Ben goes limp and silent under him, and Hux allows him to gather his hands to his chest and rub his sore tits.

“I blame myself. I've allowed you too much freedom, haven't I? Placed too much faith in your intelligence.” Hux leans over the edge of the bed, finds his belt on the floor where he'd left it after disrobing last night. He gathers Ben's wrists in both hands and binds them tightly behind his back with the indestructible strap, then lets him fall back against the bed. Ben shakes his head when Hux's hands part his thighs, takes long panting seconds to regain his breath.

“You said you wouldn't touch me.”

“You've touched me, haven't you? I'll consider that an invitation.”

“I was trying to strangle you.”

“Yes, I do appreciate that, it was charming. I'd be remiss now if I didn't eat your cunt until you can't breathe.”

“I already can't breathe. You stink of all the innocent blood you've spilled.”

“Why, Ben, I didn't know you were a poet as well as a celebrated beauty.” Hux laughs, already prying at Ben's cunt with two fingers, coaxing him open while his legs remain tightly pressed together. “Never mind the misfortunes of those who came before you. They could never please me like this.” It's true; Hux has never before been tempted to use the spoils of war for his own gratification, in fact considered it somewhat beneath him, but the son of General Organa is such a powerful symbol. And, not incidentally, the most beautiful creature that Hux has ever clapped his weary eyes on. Not shrewish and dull like his mother or coarse and common like his father, but irrepressibly radiant; dark-eyed, red-lipped, smooth-skinned and firm-muscled and eminently fuckable, a fine ornament for a general's bed.

Finally, with a small sigh, Ben parts his legs and allows Hux to open and stroke him. He almost seems to enjoy it, biting his lip and arching his back off the bed and pushing himself into Hux's hands; maybe he thinks Hux will be content with fingering him if he puts on enough of a show. Hux reaches up to fondle Ben's tits while still plunging two fingers in and out of his cunt, which is already dripping with his natural lubrication; perhaps Ben can't help but be excited at the prospect of having his pussy licked. Hux suspects it's too refined an act for the caliber of men he's been accustomed to sleeping with, anyway.

“Have they done this for you? Your beaux in the Resistance?” Hux lowers himself slowly and deliberately between Ben's legs, rests his cheek briefly on one broad white thigh. “I expect they'd be more concerned with using your holes for their own gratification. Too busy keeping their cocks warm to offer you any pleasure in return.”

“Don't--” Ben stiffens up, thigh muscles twitching as Hux descends on him, and Hux presses a long soft openmouthed kiss to his cunt, tasting the salt and musk of Ben's arousal. He presses his tongue deeper, closes his lips around Ben's clit and sucks, and Ben's legs are still twitching but splayed to either side as if he no longer has the strength or the will to deny Hux what he wants. Hux laps at him steadily, still penetrating him with two fingers and rubbing Ben's tits with his other hand and he almost feels as if he could come like this, no one touching him but his tongue and fingers working Ben's cunt and that sweet salty taste overwhelming his senses and the skin of Ben's taut little breasts soft and damp against his.

“Do you like it?” Hux surfaces to breathe, gives Ben's tits an idle slap or two just to watch them bounce. “Do you like my mouth there? Want me to lick you until you scream, Ben?”

“I won't scream.”

“You could, if you allow yourself to. If you relax and let me help you feel the best thing your body is capable of feeling.”

“I think you forgot that you're a mass murderer and I don't want you touching me.”

“You may be disdainful of my attentions now, but before long you'll be begging for them, I can promise you that.” Hux returns to his work, forcing his tongue as far as he can into Ben's tight passage until he's rewarded with a sound that could without much hyperbole be called a yelp. He draws out and pushes in again, fucking Ben with his tongue as Ben writhes around helplessly with his arms behind his back and his legs sprawled apart like he's afraid of what will happen if he tries to close them. Hux withdraws again to lap in gentle circles around his clit and Ben lets out a tiny high-pitched noise that Hux suspects is as close to a scream as he's likely to get tonight.

“Remember how I made you come? Mounting you from behind and fucking you fast and rough, that's the way you like to be treated, isn't it? Would you like me to make you come again?” Hux moves the tip of his tongue in small rapid flicks, and judging by Ben's gasps he's hitting the pertinent spot every time. He slips his fingers in again, feels the tightening of Ben's slick passage around them.

“You'd like it if I fucked you again, wouldn't you? Maybe face to face this time, make it more of a pair-bonding exercise. I intend to keep you for a very long time, after all.” Ben shakes his head, says nothing. His eyes are tightly closed, his chest heaving as if he's going to cry again, and Hux is mesmerized by what all that gasping and sighing does to Ben's tits. Small, but still soft, quivering in thin air, begging for his hands to grasp and squeeze and wrench and knead them and he does, one knee between Ben's legs and rubbing his cunt, and Ben rolls and bucks and tries to throw him off but only succeeds in bruising the delicate flesh against the point of Hux's knee, or so Hux surmises from the way he hisses and meekly drops back.

“Your dairy cattle don't live very long,” Ben says. “You can't keep me for a long time and treat me like that.”

“On the contrary. You'll live as long as I need you. You'll be treated very well, enjoy the highest standards of medical care. You're a very important acquisition, you know.” Hux lays his head on Ben's chest, sucks one warm little brown nipple into his mouth. He keeps sucking, keeps kneading and squeezing, keeps fingering Ben's cunt. And then, without warning, Ben comes and this time it's accompanied by a jet of clear fluid spraying out of him. Female ejaculation; isn't Hux just the luckiest man in the known universe.

“That was impressive.” Hux passes his fingers over the wet spot on the sheets, then brings them to his lips and tastes. “Beautifully done. What a marvelous performance, Ben, you continue to astonish me.” With slick and fragrant fingers he strokes Ben's hip, his belly, his overgrown thatch of dark pubic hair.

“I should have this trimmed. What do you think? A little bit of a trim, no shaving or waxing or scraping or that sort of thing, I know it's fashionable in some circles but I dislike the look, don't you? And I can't imagine it would be very comfortable.”

“Are you finished? Can I go back to sleep?” Ben's teeth are gritted and he sounds somewhat murderous, but just at the moment he isn't doing anything but lying there allowing Hux to pet his pubic mound as if it's a small furry domestic animal. There's a visible strain in the muscles of his neck and shoulders and Hux expects that he's getting tired of having his arms bound behind his back.

“Will you go back to sleep? If you're thinking of trying to strangle me again, I can very easily have you returned to the cellblock. You won't get much sleep there.”

“Untie me.” And whether Hux pities Ben, or feels more than usually fond of him, or whether he predicts he can easily survive another assassination attempt, he isn't exactly sure, but he does as Ben requests. Freed from his restraints, Ben lies on his side rubbing his forearms where the hard edge of the belt cut into them. Hux lies still for a while, watching him, then turns out the light and settles his head on the pillow and goes to sleep again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter contains period kink. And, as usual, Hux being a dick.

He sleeps soundly, and as far as he can tell so does Ben and they're lying peacefully side by side like man and wife when Hux wakes the next morning but he can tell something is slightly awry. He nudges Ben's shoulder, wakes him gently, and under the covers Hux can smell Ben's arousal from the night before, his emissions gone stale in the sheets, but something else as well. A heavy and unmistakable female scent, and sure enough when Hux pulls the blankets back there's a red stain on the starched smooth white linen. And another nearby, and another, drips and drops of blood marking out the place where Ben slept, and Hux recognizes the sight and scent of it, and so does Ben. He's frozen, facing Hux, eyes wide and terrified, and Hux can make an easy guess or two as to why.

“The sheets can be cleaned, darling. It's nothing to worry about.” Hux strokes Ben's hair, and Ben doesn't move. Still paralyzed with fear, his arms wrapped around himself, and he still doesn't move when Hux presses a hand between his legs and slips one finger between the slick lips of his cunt, now lubricated generously with his own blood. He isn't pregnant yet, obviously, but that's not even much of a disappointment.

“Don't look at me like that. I'm not upset with you.” Ben says nothing; his eyes unfocused, gone glassy, his lower lip caught between his teeth. “There will be plenty of opportunities for me to breed you properly. I'd hardly expect it to take on the first try.” Ben, Hux surmises, has been half-hoping he was already pregnant, in the mistaken belief that it would excuse him from further efforts. In truth Hux plans to continue fucking him as he begins to show, to use his mouth and his pussy and even his ass at every opportunity and enjoy the heightened levels of sensitivity attendant to his condition. He'll stick his cock between Ben's tits, come all over the growing belly, treat Ben exactly the way he'd treat one of Leader Snoke's breeder slaves. A faceless assortment of holes to fuck, a mindless sack of flesh and hormones.

“I didn't mean to...”

“It's all right, Ben. I know.” Ben is on his back now, spreading his legs cautiously, allowing Hux to investigate the surfeit of moisture between them. “Do you feel well? Any pain?” Hux rubs Ben's stomach with his other hand, now fucking him with two fingers, so slowly that he's sure Ben hardly feels it with all that slippery blood being flushed out of his cunt. Hux licks the stuff from his fingers while Ben looks on, disquieted.

“It hurts, doesn't it? The same aches and pains every month. You don't have to suffer, I can help you.”

“I don't need your help.”

“Shush. Just let me work, you're going to feel so much better, aren't you?” Hux straddles Ben, lets his hard cock drag across Ben's stomach. He adjusts his posture and his entire cock slides into Ben as easily as his fingers did, but provokes a louder and more hoarse and helpless cry of pleasure.

Hux starts to fuck Ben, shallowly at first, so well-lubricated that there's hardly any friction and he slams his hips back and forth as fast as he can, unable to restrain himself. He angles his cock deeper and adds a fingertip circling Ben's clit and Ben groans, head thrown back, both hands clutching his chest to keep his tits from bouncing as Hux plows into him, still faster, and he's not going to last long this time but Ben comes before he does, jerking his legs up and gasping and letting his arms fall to his sides and there are his lovely firm tits shaking and trembling and shining with sweat in the pale artificial daylight. Hux is inspired, imagines those two pretty little handfuls pressed between steel bars and stuck all over with needles, the nipples lapped at relentlessly by the kind of industrial-strength suctioning apparatus generally used only for livestock. Pinching and dragging at Ben's nipples with both hands, Hux comes inside his wet cunt for what seems like a long time, long enough for his vision to partially gray out at the edges, and he can't remember the last time anything felt so good.

He's sweating and shaking when he climbs off of Ben and lies down beside him again, and he kisses Ben's warm shoulder and ruffles his hair fondly and Ben as usual pretends not to notice. The air is thick with his scent, the taste of his blood weighing heavy and sweet on Hux's tongue.

Ben turns his back to Hux and lies there feigning sleep, and Hux knows he should get up and get dressed and return to his duties, but he's won a pivotal victory and captured a great prize and for now he prefers to rest on his laurels. He knows the life of the ship is carrying on apace outside the soundproofed walls of his quarters, that weapons are being readied and strategies being discussed and other prisoners being interrogated, but his officers and Storm Troopers are capable and unquestioningly loyal and can do without their General for a while longer.

“What's wrong with you?” Ben says- mutters, really, the degree of sullenness he's capable of is almost admirable-- without turning to face Hux. “Don't you have more planets to blow up, or children to brainwash, or something?”

“I think my most recent coup has earned me a day of rest. Perhaps more than one.” Hux strokes Ben's hair to one side and kisses the nape of his neck, and Ben shudders but otherwise remains unmoved. “You should be flattered, Ben. You've commanded the attention of the man who commands the armada of the First Order. The greatest power in the galaxy, the might of a thousand armies, and you've got me on my knees before you. Begging.”

“I haven't heard much begging.”

“You know how much I desire you.” Hux paws at Ben's chest, idly squeezes his tits in both hands, kissing and licking gently at the back of his neck, the salt of Ben's sweat mingling with the hard metallic tang of his blood. Hux has a decently quick refractory period; if he keeps playing with Ben like this, he'll be able to get hard again in a matter of minutes.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Ben lies still, unprotesting, allowing Hux to touch him while making his distaste clear; his hackles are up, his shoulders raised, his entire body stiff with misery. His breathing is heavy, his voice breaking as if he might start sobbing again but Hux can tell he's biting back tears, making a heroic effort to retain his composure. “You have other prisoners. Women. You could have any one of them. You don't have to keep me here.”

“Don't be ridiculous. There's no woman in the galaxy who compares with you. I take what I want, and only what I want, and I've chosen you to keep me company.” With some difficulty, Hux takes Ben by the shoulders and forces him onto his back on the bed; he pries Ben's arms away from his chest, not without a series of encouraging slaps. Ben reluctantly moves his arms to his sides, baring his chest and the ever-so-slight plumpness of his firm little breasts in repose. Soft skin, scattered freckles, small pointed brown nipples; as near perfection as anything Hux has ever seen, and he kneads them gently, watching the white flesh start to color delicately pink with the pressure of his hands.

“Tell me what you think of this, Ben. Suppose I had your nipples pierced... a couple of rings and a length of chain, and I could lead you around by your tits. That would be something, wouldn't it?” Hux wrings both Ben's nipples between thumb and forefinger, and Ben presses his lips together as if in pain but doesn't make a sound. He's stoic, shaking his head, allowing Hux to handle him roughly while clearly imagining that it's not his body at all, that Hux is pinching and fondling a corpse or a wax dummy or someone else's skin and flesh entirely. “Of course, that would interfere with your ability to breastfeed. Your offspring are going to need all the milk you can produce. Theories differ, but I find they're much healthier and more vigorous if the mother nurses them, for the first few weeks of life at least. There's simply no substitute for that kind of bonding.”

“I'm not going to have your children.”

“Well, no, not mine exactly. They'll belong to the First Order. Be recommended for conditioning almost immediately. With that genetic makeup, they'll make brilliant soldiers.” Hux kisses Ben's chest, presses his tits together and lavishes licks and bites on the protruding nipples; this at last wins him some small reaction, Ben's pained whimpers and ineffectual wriggling, and Hux reaches down to finger his loosened cunt and thinks of fucking him again.

“And if by some chance you prove unable to conceive, well. There are relatively non-invasive fertility treatments we've been developing. That'll do the trick, though multiples are quite common and you might end up with two or three or four where you'd been expecting one. For a first birth, that could cause some difficulty.”

Ben lies stiffly on his back with his arms at his sides, but as before he spreads his legs almost automatically for Hux's stroking fingers, raises his hips and presses himself into the gentle touch. Hux feels the sticky warmth of Ben's blood mingled with his own come, and he lifts his fingers to his lips again and tastes.

“Would you like me to eat your cunt again? I was so pleased by your response last time.”

“Leave me alone,” Ben mutters, scarcely audible. He's turned away from Hux and pressed his face into the pillow; hiding, Hux supposes, as best he can.

“Of course I will, if that's what you want. Leave you to the tender mercies of my Storm Troopers. They deserve to be rewarded too, don't they?”

“You won't.”

“What?”

“You won't let your men have me. You like me too much.”

“Well, I won't allow them to breed you. I'd insist on some sort of birth control.” Hux twists his fingers deep in Ben's cunt, opening him greedily, drawing a single dismayed sob from his throat. “And you'd be restrained as well. On your hands and knees with your head held up and a nice stiff dental gag forcing your jaws apart so they could fuck your mouth. I don't think you'd like that at all, do you?” Ben only grunts in reply, and Hux resists the urge to slap him, to do whatever he can to provoke some sort of reaction.

“You've already made your choice, Ben. You've decided that you're better off here with me, haven't you?” Still no response, and Hux slaps Ben's thigh, just once, lightly, to get his attention. He withdraws his fingers- drenched from his efforts-- from Ben's tightly clenching pussy and draws them down the length of Ben's body, between his breasts and over his tensed belly to his thickly furred pubic mound, leaving faint sticky streaks of red on his skin.

“Look at this filth. All that wasted effort, but soon your cunt won't bleed anymore. Soon you'll need all that blood and flesh to protect the child growing inside you.” Hux lowers his head and licks along the same path his fingers took, and he parts Ben's thighs and sinks his tongue into the wonderfully slick and humid opening between them. Ben cries out, high-pitched and pleased, and this time his hands grab for the back of Hux's head, fingers tangling as firmly as they can in his close-cropped hair. Ben urges Hux on, his hands and hips working in greedy tandem, and cries of a sort that Hux has never heard before escape his throat and build to a delighted crescendo as his orgasm wrings him out in long slow twitches and shivers.

Hux surfaces, licking his lips, and Ben's chest is heaving as he pants for breath, his lips parted and his eyes closed and his hair in sweaty disarray. Hux strokes his hair away from his face, and Ben doesn't resist the touch. Hux watches, fascinated, as Ben places a hand between his sprawled-apart legs and starts to rub at himself, the movements of his fingers gentle but urgent, and soon he's groaning and coming again with his thighs clenched tightly shut and his fingers still pressed into his well-fucked pussy. Hux waits patiently for Ben to catch his breath, amusing himself in the meantime by sucking on Ben's nipples, rolling his tongue lasciviously and repeatedly over each one in turn. Small sweet things, very sensitive, obligingly hard between his lips, absolutely ripe for the milking machine.

“That was lovely.” Hux keeps his arm around Ben as they settle against each other, idly cupping a breast with one hand, the nipple stiff and damp against his fingertips. He kisses Ben's tousled hair and reaches down to stroke himself and by the time he comes Ben has drifted off next to him, one hand still wedged between his legs. 

Hux remains awake while Ben sleeps, apparently untroubled now that he's allowed Hux to lick him to such a loud and showy climax. He continues to be impressed by Ben's stamina, his fascinating sexual responses; can only imagine what he'll be like once he's pregnant. Inflamed with hormones, heavy-titted and languid, demanding to be serviced, and Hux will oblige with great pleasure. He pulls back the sheets and blankets and admires Ben's unconscious body, the sprawled limbs and striations of muscle, the careless tilt of his shoulders, the sweat-damp spill of his dark hair. Hux rubs himself against the firm smooth warmth of Ben's ass until he's hard again, then stands and jerks off over him, pawing at Ben's chest with his other hand, careful above all not to wake him. Ben groans and rolls onto his back and sleeps on, and Hux plays with his exposed tits, rubbing the sticky moisture of his own release into Ben's skin, pinching and pulling at the swollen and irritated nipples as much as he dares.

He's sucking on them again when Ben wakes up, catches a gleam of something almost affectionate in his dark eyes as soon as they open, before they've quite made sense of what they're seeing. As if Ben is remembering someone else's hands touching him, someone else's lips suckling wetly at his tits as he lies half awake in someone else's bed. He seems almost about to smile, before he realizes where he is.

“Sleep well?” Hux says, his voice muffled in Ben's scant but perfectly adequate cleavage; he's got one breast in each hand again, mounding them together, and the way they slump to either side when he releases them-- the skin red and hot from all that rough handling- is almost enough to make him hard again.

“I can't sleep.” Ben raises his hands to his chest, cups his tits gingerly, lets out a quiet and by now familiar hiss of pain. “That hurts.”

“I suppose it must, a bit.” Hux pulls Ben's hands away, impatient with them obstructing his view. His tits are, well, not round or lush or traditionally appealing as symbols of fertility, but there's something about those two demure little teardrops of fatty tissue that comes very close to driving Hux out of his mind. The pale and easily-marked skin that covers them is the softest he's ever touched, and the nipples are especially compelling now that he's spent some time working on them. Maybe he could get Ben to start lactating before he's even conceived, milk him dry every day, encourage him to produce more and more, watch him swell obscenely; take meticulous notes on his gains, new measurements daily. He's getting ahead of himself, he knows. Patience is required, and more work, and a little cooperation from Ben, who's now snatched his hands back from Hux and resumed palpating himself.

“You said you weren't going to torture me,” he complains. Reddened skin still visible between his fingers, and Hux knows that hands are all well and good but there are other implements he could use, a thousand different shades of flushed and bruised that could be applied to Ben's chest. Canes, whips, paddles, lengths of chain and cable, so many ways to inflict so many kinds of small insults and injuries.

“It's not torture. It's a sort of loveplay. How I express affection.” Hux reaches for Ben, tweaks one of his sore nipples, is rewarded with a yelp of helpless indignation. “Conditioning, as well. You have to get used to the feeling of your teats being suckled.”

“I'm not going to get used to it.”

“Then you'll continue to find it painful and unpleasant.” Hux slaps Ben's chest lightly, then kisses the faint red mark left by his hand. “That will cause your offspring undue stress, and they won't flourish, and you'll have to be bred again until you're able to produce properly. It'll be much easier for you if you go along with the behavioral modifications.”

“Raping and torturing isn't the same as modifying behavior.”

“Those ugly words again. I can see you've got a lot of work to do. Your frame of mind, for one thing; you'll get nowhere thinking of yourself as a prisoner.”

“I am a prisoner. I was captured in battle and you're keeping me here against my will.”

“And I can assure you you have no hope of escape. Making the best of your situation would be the sensible thing to do.” Hux leans back against his pillow, props himself up with his arms folded behind his head and looks down the length of his own naked body, and it occurs to him that he's never been more comfortable than he is right now, reclining on these spotted sheets, anticipating the satiation of his every desire for as long as he keeps Ben by his side. To that end, he smacks Ben's shoulder to attract his attention and attempts to guide the boy towards his cock, which is limp and a bit sore right now but certain to appreciate such a marvelously lush and surely practiced mouth working on it.

“Here, Ben. Have a taste of this and tell me what you think.” Ben's face registers immediate and obvious disgust, his unusual features contorting in ways that very nearly make them ugly; but then he goes blank again, his eyes closed, that peculiar almost-smile on his lips, and he lowers his head obediently between Hux's legs.

“You're thinking of him, aren't you? Your pilot.” Hux winds his fingers into Ben's hair, feels his reflexive stiffening, the line of tension running down his neck and back as he crouches with his head bowed, his lips all but touching Hux's cock. “I won't forbid you to think of him. If it helps you, if it's what you need to come to terms with your new situation.” Ben nods tersely, but he opens his mouth, and he keeps his eyes closed as he delicately tongues and tastes, not venturing very far at first; teasing at the slit, brushing gently across the underside of the head.

“Did you do this with him? Let him fuck your bleeding cunt and then lick your own blood off his cock?” Hux strokes Ben's cheek as Ben opens his mouth to take him deeper, eyes still closed, red lips wet and stretched. “Do you like to taste yourself? I bet you'll swallow anything that's been stuck far enough up your loose little fuckhole.” Ben registers his dissatisfaction with a quiet snort, but doesn't stop sucking, and Hux's hands find his tits again and squeeze them rhythmically. At this angle gravity practically thrusts them into his palms, and he can't help but picture what it'll be like when pregnancy fills them to bursting, gives these dainty little things a far more weighty and respectable sway. Hux will make Ben suck him off then, maybe while the milking machine works on him, and why not add a machine fucking him from behind for good measure, keep his cunt nice and full while his mouth's busy with Hux's cock. Make him come like that, with his heavy tits bouncing and his pregnant belly swollen and quivering and hard cocks plunging in and out of him at either end. Hux wonders, practically, how soon he'll be able to requisition the hardware he needs.

“That's enough.” Hux is close to coming and he wants to do it with Ben's tits mounded high on either side of his cock. He coaxes Ben to lie on his back and then straddles his chest, his spit-slicked and unflagging erection resting between Ben's tits, and from this vantage point the view is marvelous; Ben with his head thrown back and his chest thrust forward, his face flushed and his lips wet and swollen and his nipples peaked and red from Hux's rough handling. The gleaming white valley between his breasts, variously marked with moles and spots and freckles, and in the middle of that lovely expanse of pale skin, Hux's cock, thick-veined and solid and flushed.

“Here.” Hux pulls at Ben's wrists, moves his hands into position. “Hold your tits and push them together.” Ben does as commanded, his eyes still closed and his head still lolling back on his neck as if he's pretending to be asleep. He looks good grabbing at his own tits, veins and tendons popping out on the backs of his hands, which are large and broad-boned and callused and hardly look as if they belong on the same body as the small soft-skinned pair of breasts they're clutching and mounding together. Hux ruts into the narrow channel between them, giving Ben the occasional slap of encouragement on his cheek or shoulder or side.

“Open your mouth.” He slips his thumb between Ben's lips and Ben nips at it lightly, almost lovingly. He relaxes his jaw and lets his mouth hang open and when Hux comes he catches some of it, swallows reluctantly, looks for a moment as if he's about to spit and then thinks better of it.

“There.” Hux traces his fingers over Ben's throat and collarbones, gathering the excess moisture, then brings them to Ben's lips which once more part automatically although there's an audibly miserable catch in Ben's breath as he licks Hux's fingers clean. Once again Hux has the feeling that Ben is doing everything he can to deny him the satisfaction of his victory, and really, he has more strength of will than Hux has been giving him credit for.


	4. Chapter 4

For the next half an hour or so Hux sits up in bed going through correspondence on his datapad, one hand absently groping at Ben's chest, and as it happens the day's crop of messages includes the results of the medical tests performed on Ben when he was first captured, which Phasma has tersely and dutifully passed along.

“Look at this, Ben. Your hormone levels are optimal. Plenty of eggs, you're about as fertile as they come. It looks like I've chosen a perfect breeder.”

“I can't get pregnant now,” Ben mutters. He's curled on his side facing away from Hux, and Hux can imagine the cramping in his gut and the sticky feeling of the unstemmed flow of moisture from between his legs. Not to mention the ache of his abused tits- in most females they're especially tender during menstruation, anyway-- and the rawness of his pussy, and the exhaustion of being made to come half a dozen times before breakfast. He strokes Ben's long smooth back, soothing him, turning to speak softly at his ear.

“It's not likely, but it's certainly possible, and I've been greatly enjoying the fertilization procedure. Don't you find it enjoyable?”

“Leave me alone.”

“You can go clean yourself up now, if you wish. I'll have the sheets changed and find something to stop up your cunt with, that ought to make you more comfortable.” Ben sighs and rolls to his feet and Hux watches him stalk to the fresher, a gratifying stiffness in his movements. While Ben showers he does some hasty requisitioning and takes delivery of food and fresh linens and a few other crucial items. Ben reappears, clean, stands quietly with his legs apart while Hux inserts an absorbent fiber plug into his pussy. That's by no means the only gift he has for Ben; another is a long tunic made of a delicately woven and nearly transparent Naboonian linen, the sort of garment made to accentuate rather than conceal the wearer's charms, and indeed when Ben slips it on his nipples are just as visible as if he hadn't, but the illusion of modesty seems to placate him somewhat.

“Very pretty.” Hux arranges the soft material over Ben's chest, feels it warm to his touch, feels the stiffness of his nipples through the thin layer and realizes he's hard again. He leads Ben to the bed, bends him over and pushes him down like he did on the table in the examination room.

“What are you doing?” Ben sounds more irritated than apprehensive, and he shifts in Hux's grasp, trying to look over his shoulder. He must have surely surmised from the position he's in and the plug still firmly stopping up his cunt that Hux is about to fuck his ass.

Hux is curious as to whether Ben will consider this a greater violation than anything that's been done to him so far, but he says nothing, only spreads Ben's ass with his hands and guides his cock to the opening, and this sort of thing can be accomplished without any lubrication but for at least one out of the two of them it isn't going to be very comfortable.

“What do you think?” Hux slaps Ben's ass, once, firmly, finds it almost as satisfying as slapping his tits.   
A crucial difference, however, is the view; he can't see Ben's face from here, can't see tears welling in his eyes or his teeth catching on his lower lip as he tries not to cry out. “Are you loose enough for me here? I suppose you're accustomed to this as well.”

“Don't--” Ben's protest is half-swallowed, tinged with panic. His shoulders flex upward, then slump again in defeat, and his arms twitch desultorily at his sides. He's probably imagining his hands fastened around Hux's throat, slowly squeezing the life out of him, and then he goes limp and acquiescent again and Hux presses forward and enters him, slowly, as slowly as the first time he fucked Ben, remembering that delicious moment of triumph; Ben spread before him, bound and terrified, trying in vain to keep his legs together as Hux rutted heedlessly into his flinching cunt.

“I know this isn't the first time. It's far too easy. I'm not hurting you, am I?” Hux slaps Ben's firm ass again, keeps slapping it as he fucks into the tight but yielding passage, one hand venturing up underneath Ben's tunic to fondle his chest and pluck and pull at his nipples. “How many cocks have you taken up here? Have you tried one in your ass and one in your cunt at the same time? You might have the opportunity when I introduce you to some of my higher-ranking officers.” He's probably bluffing about that-- he doesn't see any especially compelling reason to share his prize- but then again it might be amusing, and though he's doing his best to push Ben past the limits of his endurance, he is only one man with one cock and can't really wear him out as thoroughly as he'd like.

“I'll save that for after you've conceived. When you're pregnant with my offspring, there can be no doubt who you really belong to.” Ben just groans wordlessly and flexes his shoulders again, that hopeless rising and falling that's sort of like a horizontal shrug.

“Would you like me to come in your ass? You like being full, don't you? All of your holes stuffed with hard cocks, imagine how good you'll feel when your womb is full, when your tits are full and heavy and aching...” Hux comes with a sigh and a prickling feeling of sweat beading on his forehead, and he gives Ben's ass another good hard open-handed smack as he withdraws, satisfied.

After that Hux realizes he's ravenous, and he eats breakfast alone in the adjoining room, hastily, unmindful of the tastes or textures of the things he swallows down- fruit, tea, biscuit, butter, jam, dehydrated meat-- until he picks up the cold flask of milk. Pure, whole, unspoiled, its white opaqueness tinged slightly with blue, and it's sweet but not as sweet as what Ben's going to produce and Hux imagines him again on all fours with the milking machine's pressurized cups suckling at him like small implacable mouths. His indignation, his disgust, his shame at being used like an animal. The distension of his nipples when the cups are removed, Hux will of course be on hand to soothe them, to use his mouth for what was arguably its first purpose, to taste Ben's milk directly from the source

He returns to his bed to find Ben sitting on the edge of it with his head in his hands, his body folded inward in a posture of defeat so pitiable that it gives Hux pause. Ben is beautiful, with the soft sheen of the nearly-transparent fabric clinging lightly to his body, the white of his skin and the more delicate white of the fine linen, his dark hair still damp and falling on his neck. Hux sits down beside him. He would tell Ben, if he knew how to make Ben believe him, that in time he'll grow used to his captivity, will come to appreciate everything that Hux has provided for him. The life of a breeder- a petted and treasured one, sure, but Ben's worth is still mostly contingent on the usefulness of that wet hole between his legs-- will come to seem natural to him.

“You've been crying again.” Ben doesn't dignify this with a response, remains hunched into himself despondently, ignoring Hux with an impressive singleness of purpose.

“I can't command you to be happy, I know.” Hux kisses Ben's neck, inhales the pleasant washed scent of his damp skin and hair. “Your body belongs to me, but your mind is still your own.” Hux tangles his fingers in Ben's hair, tilts his head back and kisses his lips, and Ben neither protests nor acquiesces. Hux passes an agreeable hour or so with his tongue in Ben's mouth and his fingers in Ben's cunt, but Ben refuses to come, or else does it so silently that Hux is unaware of it. Hux can't seem to force any reaction from him, and he wonders if by fucking Ben's ass he'd finally caused him to dissociate, leave his body and everything that was happening to it behind.

Hux returns to his duties- there are many more battles to be won, after all-- but without the concentration he once possessed, his usually uncluttered and incisive mind now full of his most recent victory, and every evening and early morning when he returns to his quarters Ben is waiting for him. Wearing the one garment he's been allowed, lying in Hux's bed feigning sleep, and Hux uses him casually and falls asleep beside him and usually wakes a few hours later and uses him again. After a week or so of this, he presents Ben to the ship's medical staff for another examination, finds that he hasn't yet succeeded in impregnating him but that Ben has developed a minor infection, his cunt rubbed raw from Hux's frequent and enthusiastic attentions.

By coincidence, Hux receives the news of Ben's pregnancy and a private communique from Ben's mother at practically the same time. The Resistance's General Organa appears as she always does; the holographic image of her face looking dour and exhausted but determined, and her words are clear and her voice doesn't falter. There are rumors, she says, rumors among the ranks of her own army that her captured son has been turned into General Hux's whore, rumors of the use to which Ben is currently being put; she knows about the First Order's breeding programs, and Hux of course would be more than delighted to offer her more information. As soon as he starts documenting Ben's pregnancy, he'll send the resulting films and still images to General Organa, who proposes a meeting to broker the exchange of her son for First Order prisoners. Trouble is, they're overwhelmingly expendable; Hux hasn't lost anyone that can't be easily replaced.

“I have two important pieces of news for you,” he tells Ben that night in bed. Ben lies there with his back turned, utterly disinterested, radiating misery and hopelessness as Hux reaches for him and starts to feel up his belly and of course his tits, which won't be so small and taut for very much longer. “I received a message from your mother. She's willing to negotiate for your release.” Ben's spine stiffens at this, and Hux knows he's offering false hope, dangling the prospect of freedom rather cruelly in front of Ben's face.

“You won't do it,” Ben says. “You won't let me go. Not for anything less than total surrender, and I don't want that.”

“Don't be so hasty, Ben. I see no harm in discussing these things. At the very least, your mother ought to see her son again.” Hux leans into Ben, kissing his neck, pressing his hard cock to Ben's warm bare ass under the covers. He still has both hands up the front of Ben's tunic, clinging to his tits, and it almost seems that they already feel hotter and heavier, the nipples plumper, the skin more sensitive to his touch. Ben's breath comes short, his chest rising and falling rapidly in Hux's grasp. “What would she think if she saw you like this? Naked in her enemy's bed, your pussy fucked raw by the very man she swore she would destroy. And soon you'll start to show, as well. The next time General Organa sets eyes on you, your belly will be swollen with my offspring.”

“I'm pregnant.”

“Your efforts have been rewarded. You're a fine breeder, my dear, and I'm proud of you.” Hux trails one hand down over Ben's belly and slips a finger into him. He massages the warm firm inner flesh of Ben's cunt, still rocking gently against him, and he knows he can come without even entering Ben this time, thinking of the seed he's already planted. Such a small thing now, nestled deep under layers of skin and muscle, growing slowly but inexorably in its little room inside Ben's body. It'll expand to fill him, stretch him, push his internal organs aside, flatten his stomach and press uncomfortably against his bladder, but now it's only a tiny spark of life swimming in fluid darkness.

“I don't want her to see me like this,” Ben says, with sudden vehemence. “I don't ever want to see her again. She won't negotiate with you. She has to forget about me.”

“You're her son. Her only child. I'm sure she'd do anything to recover you. Do you think I can't be trusted with diplomacy? That I would kill her, or take her prisoner?”

“You're a monster.”

“I'm a man. One who wishes to drink a proper toast to the continuation of his bloodline. This is a time to celebrate, don't you agree?” Hux opens a drawer beside the bed and pulls out a flask containing a small amount of a smoky and potent liquor distilled on his home planet, well-aged and expensive, perfect for the occasion.

“Come now, let's have a drink. Just a drop for you, it won't cause any harm to the child.” Hux uncaps the flask, pulls at Ben's shoulder, coaxes him to lie flat on his back. He pulls the loose neckline of the tunic off Ben's shoulder, low enough to bare one breast, and anoints it with a careful drip from the flask. He sucks the dark honeyed liquor from Ben's nipple, then kisses him, and Ben whimpers a little when Hux's tongue slides between his lips.

“That's all right, isn't it?” Hux drinks directly from the bottle, one smooth burning swallow, and kisses Ben again. “To our good fortune, and our galaxy-conquering progeny.” He tilts the bottle to Ben's lips and Ben drinks obediently, his eyes tightly closed, a pained expression on his face.

“We'll have to take pictures, and measurements. Track your gains, though I don't think you've made any just yet.” Hux strokes Ben's stomach and laps at his nipples again, first one then the other, and Ben lies there stiff and silent as a corpse and refuses to rise to any of his bait, but Hux is patient. As patient as nothingness itself, as the implacable emptiness of space, as patient as a man who's broken countless prisoners under his exacting and excruciating ministrations. He lowers his head between Ben's legs and nurses gently at his cunt for a while without making him come; he suspects that Ben is too catatonic to come, but the shock will wear off in time.

“That's enough, then.” He sits upright, shoving at Ben's shoulder. “I'm going to fuck you now. I'd like you to sit in my lap and ride my cock so I can watch your tits bouncing.”

“Leave me alone.”

“I ought to record it, too. Our first triumphant fuck after receiving the happy news.”

“You should have killed me. I won't make this easy for you.”

“You already have, lovely.” Hux strips Ben's tunic off with no cooperation from him, then folds it and sets it aside so it won't get mussed. “Very well, then. You can ride my cock and pretend to enjoy it, or I can summon one of my officers right now and allow him to do as he will with you.” Ben says nothing, but the look on his face is a clear challenge. Hux is being dared to do his worst, but Ben will have to be content with slightly less than that.

Not more than a few minutes later, Lieutenant Dopheld Mitaka is standing in Hux's bedroom with most of his uniform folded neatly at his feet and the expression of a condemned man on his face, his arms thrust behind him as if clasped there by binders. Ben is still in bed, naked, lying on his side, pretending to take no notice of either of them.

“Go on, tell me what you think. Beautiful, isn't he?” Hux waits, receives no response, pours a dram of Arkanisian whiskey into a small glass. “Have a drink, won't you?” Woodenly, Mitaka accepts the glass, raises it to his lips, throws it back with one stiff movement of his head.

“Frankly, and with all due respect, sir, I don't understand why--”

“I'm in need of your help, Lieutenant. Thank you for lending me your expertise on such short notice.”

“Disciplining prisoners is not my area of expertise. Sir.” Mitaka probably isn't aware of it but he's licking his lips as his eyes wander the length of Ben's body, laid bare on the mattress with no blankets or sheets to cover it.

“You won't need to discipline him. As you can see, he's quite obedient.” Hux reaches down to stroke Ben's hair, and at that moment Ben's deceptive stillness gives way to sudden and furious motion, a swift strike combined with a sideways roll, and his hand finds Hux's throat and he gathers his legs under him and leaps upright. Hux is thrown off-balance and swiftly pinned to the bed, and the airless rush of it is almost thrilling; he can't help but appreciate Ben's continuing efforts to surprise him.

“I'll kill you.” Ben has both hands at Hux's throat now, but he turns too late to avoid the descending barrel of Mitaka's blaster, which cracks him a heavy blow to the side of his head, stunning him long enough for Hux to scramble out from under him. Mitaka trains his weapon on Ben, but Hux raises a hand, gestures for him to stand down. Ben sidles off the bed and sprawls on the floor, cradles his head in his hands and groans.

“He shouldn't stay unsecured like this. He should be returned to the cells.”

“He won't stay unsecured.” Hux drags Ben's arms behind his back without much difficulty and uses Mitaka's belt to strap his wrists to one leg of the bed. He picks up his own belt from the floor and offers it to Mitaka, who's still half-stripped and waving his unsheathed blaster around.

“Here, put that down. Take the belt. I want you to beat him.” Ben raises his head at this, looks up at Hux blearily, one eye already starting to swell shut. His mouth works soundlessly, his shoulders flex as he pulls against the strap binding his wrists. 

“I... now?” Mitaka lowers his weapon, plainly nervous, stammering and starting as he moves cautiously closer to Ben, crouches down to peer at him. “He's received a blow to the head. He needs medical attention.”

“I'll decide whether or not any intervention is necessary, Lieutenant.”

“Sir.”

“Take the belt. Hold it at the buckle. Beat him around the neck and chest as hard as you can until I tell you to stop.” Hux sits down on the foot of the bed and rests a hand on Ben's shoulder. Mitaka, holding the belt in both hands, hesitates for a moment with his mouth half-open on some protest, then nods and appears to steel his resolve. He squares his stance, plants his feet a shoulder's width apart. He pulls the belt taut between his hands, then draws back. There's another moment of hesitation, longer and more pregnant than the first, before the belt descends whistling through the air and strikes Ben's chest just above his tits with a resounding smack.

Emboldened, Mitaka leans into his task, lands blow after stinging blow on Ben's vulnerable bare chest, and by the time he pauses to regain his breath Ben's tits are crosshatched with angry red welts and both his nipples have split and bled. He flinches away when Hux crouches next to him, and Hux grasps his hair and forces his head back and kisses his parted lips as Ben gasps and quavers and sobs and begs, Hux can barely make it out but he's saying 'please' over and over again between huge gasping breaths. Hux paws and slaps his abused tits, draws a small choked cry from Ben when he lowers his head and sucks at one bloodied nipple.

“There, you see. None of that was necessary. You've just made things very unpleasant for yourself.” Ben's legs are already splayed apart, and Hux rests a hand between them, close but not touching him just yet. “Now I think it would be only courteous to invite the Lieutenant here to use whichever one of your holes he prefers.” Ben only grunts in reply, not quite a demurral, but Hux can see he has no intentions of playing along, that as always he'll have to be coaxed.

“I'd like you to tell him, Ben. Tell him you want him to fuck your mouth, or your ass, or your pussy. Tell him he can choose whichever one he prefers.” Hux closes a hand around Ben's throat, pressing down gently with his fingertips, feels the frantic drumming of blood in his veins and the steadying push-pull of his breath. He's still crying, but softly now, whimpering rather than sobbing.

“You heard him,” Ben says, barely any quaver left in his voice. “Choose.”

“Choose what?” Hux prompts him, stroking Ben's inner thigh, working his way up to the tangled mass of hair over his cunt. Mitaka hovers, stiff and uncertain with his arms at his sides, twitching as if he wants to touch Ben but knows he shouldn't dare.

“I said it.”

“Be more specific. Address him directly, look him in the eye. Go on.” Again Hux lifts Ben's head for him, aims his tear-streaked face toward Mitaka's, which registers a brief but genuine flash of misgiving before settling into a good soldier's serene and automatic expressionlessness.

“Do you want to fuck my mouth, or my ass, or my pussy?” Ben chokes out the string of words like something he's brought up from the back of his throat, and he and Mitaka both look miserable but Hux is determined to see this thing through.

“I ought not to-- I mean, I must respectfully decline--”

“Enough, Lieutenant. Just fuck the boy so we can all get some sleep.” It takes a bit more cajoling, but eventually Mitaka chooses to fuck Ben's mouth, Hux still dragging on his hair and maneuvering him back and forth, and no sooner is the last drop of his spend down Ben's throat than he's climbing back into his uniform and he throws out a last salute and leaves with indecent haste, and Hux reclaims his bed and resumes trying to coax Ben into his lap.

“You did very well for him, darling. I'm certain he appreciated your beautiful mouth.” Hux strokes himself idly, pulls Ben towards him and allows him to collapse on the bed. His shoulders are heaving, but he's learned to cry in utter silence.

“I'm sorry you're in pain. I know how sensitive you are, that must hurt a great deal.” Hux rubs gently at Ben's back between his shoulder blades, leans in to kiss his neck. “I'm afraid it might be impractical to keep punishing you like that. The strain on your body is too much, and you're going to need all your strength. You're carrying a child now, you have something very precious inside you.”

“Please.” It's more gasp than word, repeated once, then again, as if Ben is struggling for control of his vocal chords. “Just leave me alone. Leave me... let me...”

“I can't do that, Ben. I don't wish to abandon our work together. The progress we've made.” Hux curves one hand around Ben's throat again and squeezes, only slightly. “Now come here. Ride my cock, make me come, and then I'll let you sleep.” Very slowly, Ben raises himself up on his knees, and very slowly he stretches one leg out and straddles Hux's lap, grasping his shoulders for balance. His battered tits are no longer bleeding, but flaming with bruises in every shade of pink and red and darkening into bluish purple along the lines of the belt. It's impressive, an almost garish sight, and what if the rest of Ben were done up to match, his belly and sides and back and legs and ass...

Hux cries out loudly as Ben rides him, taking fresh delight in his conquest, fondling his tits and stomach and biting at his neck, and when he comes he kisses Ben hard on his gasping mouth and Ben acquiesces with a small dismayed moan, parting his lips obediently for Hux's tongue. Hux drags Ben's head back by the hair and kisses him deeper, still groping at his chest with the other hand, and it occurs to him to be stunned at his own rapaciousness, his apparently endless capacity to use and hurt and humiliate this lovely creature under his command. Maybe part of him resents Ben's beauty, knowing he possesses none of his own. Maybe he wants Ben to turn to the Dark Side, to be so despoiled- so wounded and maimed, psychologically as well as physically-- that his own mother would no longer recognize him. This boy, callow and harmless as he is, almost seems to Hux a symbol of purity, and purity is a weakness that must be exploited.


End file.
